


Samson

by Arya_Greenleaf



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Character, Childhood Friends, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Feelings Realization, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Polyamorous Character, Rating May Change, Reunions, Tags May Change, Time Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: Bill doesn’t know what to say. He’s angry . They worked so hard! They did so much! And Captain Logan was just going to yank the carpet out from under them anyway? And how come Rufus didn’t know about this -- or did he know and he just didn’t bother to tell them?“I leave on July First.”
Relationships: Elizabeth & Joanna & Ted "Theodore" Logan & Bill S. Preston Esq., Elizabeth/Ted "Theodore" Logan, Joanna/Bill S. Preston Esq., Ted "Theodore" Logan & Bill S. Preston Esq., Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by the song "Samson" by Regina Spektor, an old favorite.](https://youtu.be/p62rfWxs6a8)
> 
> As of first posting, this piece is a work in progress. As such, tags and rating may be adjusted. This was supposed to be my big finale for 2020 and I just hit a wall with it but I wanted to put out what I have. The events are all mapped out, it's just a matter of moving everyone along! If you're reading this when the story is complete, well then you can totally disregard this note, my good dude.

He’s hiding behind his mom’s legs the first time Bill meets him. He clings to her, peeking out from behind her once in a while. 

They’re at the grocery store and Bill’s dad is letting him have whatever cereal he wants -- even one with colors and marshmallows. He’s been trying to convince him that they should get a big jug of chocolate milk, too, but it’s a tougher sell. 

They’re stalled there in the cereal aisle because this lady stopped his dad to say hello. She remembers him from the library, she helped him register himself and Bill for brand new cards. Bill kind of remembers her, her voice at least. He’d been most overwhelmed by all of the books and the bright colored cushions in the children’s section. They didn’t have that at the old library. This lady was young and nice, too, not scary like the old witch back home.

But Bill guesses that  _ back home _ isn’t really right anymore.

The lady from the library turns a little to push the boy clinging to her forward and says his name is Ted and that he’s in the same grade that Bill is. Ted peels himself away from her just enough to say  _ hello _ , very, very quietly. The lady reaches down and brushes his hair away from his eyes. It’s very long, Bill thinks. Maybe he takes pictures for the  _ Sears _ catalog like that girl at his old school?

Bill waves and smiles and he’s very aware of his missing front tooth when Ted turns pink and ducks behind his mom’s legs again.

Their parents talk for a while and Bill sneaks an extra box of cereal into the cart. The lady says she hopes that he has a good first day of school on Monday and that he should find Ted when he gets there. Ted would be happy to be his first friend.

With his hair back in his face again, Ted tugs at his mom’s hand to coax her down the aisle and away from Bill and his dad and Bill supposes maybe he’s just shy. Ted’s mom swings their hands between them as they walk away and asks him something about chicken fingers.

Bill feels the tiniest tingle of jealousy in his chest. “Dad? Can I sit in the cart?”

His dad looks like he’s on another planet for a moment and shakes his head like he’s waking up. “What’s that?”

“The cart,” Bill points. “Can I sit in it?”

“Yeah! Sure, kiddo.” He shifts some groceries around to make space and when Bill lifts up his arms his dad hoists him up and over into the cart. “Don’t squish the bread.” He reaches out to the shelf and pulls out another box of cereal. “ _ Lucky Charms _ ?”

Bill nods and takes the box and hopes his dad doesn’t notice the other two already in the cart until they get home.

On Monday morning, Bill is the most nervous that he’s ever been in his whole seven years of life. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go  _ home _ but his dad says that they  _ are _ home. A new one. And he can’t go back to his school, he has to go to this new one. 

Bill doesn’t like any of it one little bit. He doesn’t know anyone. All of the kids stare as Bill and his dad walk up to the front entrance and march to the office. Bill sits in a chair covered in ugly green fabric while his dad talks to a lady at the big, tall desk. When he’s done, he squats down in front of Bill and fusses over him -- fixing Bill’s hair and then licking his thumb to scrub at some syrup from breakfast that’s still on his cheek.

“You’re gonna have so much fun today, Billy,” his dad insists. 

The lady at the desk talks into the intercom and asks someone to send a helper to the office.

“I wanna go home, Dad.”

“You need to go to school, pal.”

“You could teach me at home!”

“I wish I could, Billy, but you spell better than I do. I don’t think I could teach you anything.” Bill feels like he’s going to cry. His nose feels like there’s a bee caught inside of it and his eyes sting. His dad puts Bill’s foot up on his knee and fixes his shoelace. “I’ll be right outside when you’re done for the day. You don’t even have to walk all the way out to the sidewalk by yourself. You guys get to come out of the side door and I can come right up and get you. And then we can get some ice cream and you can tell me about your day. Sound alright?”

“I guess.” 

Bill slides out of his seat and his dad passes him his backpack and the office door swings open. “Oh, Theodore!” the lady behind the desk smiles down at the boy from the grocery store. “Would you be so kind as to escort William back to class?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“William?”

Bill frowns and glares at his dad and he gets a look that means he should just let it go. “ _ Dad _ ,” he complains over the big kiss he gets on the top of his head. He scrubs it off and starts to follow Ted out the door. He hesitates and turns back and wraps his arms around his dad as tight as he can for just a second before he scoots out of the office again. “Well?” he says to Ted. “Come on!”

The other kids in Bill’s class are all very loud. They stare at him like he’s a weird bug in a tank at the zoo. Art class isn’t so bad, Bill thinks, but art is his favorite anyway. The whole group of them line up and march through the hall to the art room and Bill knows when they’re close to it because he can smell the paints and the walls are covered with pictures that people used too much on so it’s all cracking and flaking off onto the floor. 

Ted takes his hand and pulls him over to a table with an empty seat and pulls the chair out for him before he climbs up into his own. The room is for all the grades so the chairs and tables are tall and Bill doesn’t like that his feet don’t touch the floor. 

The teacher tells them that they’re going to have an easy day since they have a new friend in the room and passes out big sheets of thick paper to everyone. They’re meant to use the markers from the baskets on the tables to draw what they want to be when they grow up.

Bill stares down at his blank page and he doesn’t really know what to draw. He hasn’t ever given much thought to what he’d do when he’s grown up. It seems so far away and all the grown ups he knows just work in boring offices. He supposes the Xerox machine is fun to use. One time his dad let him make a copy of their hands together and he had to keep it a secret from the boss. But other than that? He just wanted to be Now-Bill.

Future-Bill could worry about all that when it was time for it.

Ted taps Bill very gently on the arm to get his attention and points down below the table. From out of the pocket of his big orange sweatshirt he produces a brand new package of markers. “My mom got me them,” he says. “Because  _ Andy _ keeps hogging all the colors.” Ted shoots a very nasty look at who Bill can only assume is the craft supply criminal. He opens the box and offers it to Bill. “Do you want to share them?”

Bill nods and takes the blue marker and asks Ted if that color is okay. Ted tells him it is and he pulls the cap off with a  _ pop! _ The perfect pointy shape of a fresh marker is one of Bill’s favorite things in the world. On his paper he decides that he’s going to just draw what he wants and he likes to draw horses so  _ that _ is what he does. He traces a big body that takes up most of the page by the time the teacher comes over and asks him if he wants another piece of paper because she’s not sure he understood the assignment.

“Yes, he did!” Ted pipes up. “He wants to be a cowboy, he told me so.”

“Oh, is that right William?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bill answers. Ted grins and turns back to his own paper. There are colorful smudges and fingerprints everywhere and Bill recognizes the person in the middle of it all by his long, dark hair. He’s holding a guitar and there are squiggly lines all over that Bill thinks must be music. Ted quietly moves his box of markers from his lap onto the table between them, far enough from the other kids that they can’t get them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for all the times I misspelled "pretzels." In my defense spellcheck kept trying to make me change "N" to "AND" in "Pretzels N Cheese" and it was attaching my misspelled carbohydrates to it so I just kept smashing the ignore button. I do not have the willpower to go through each chapter and fix all the bread. It is just too much effort to make new dough and proof it and they're pretzels so there's all that pesky boiling.


	2. Chapter 2

In the hot, sweet end of the summer before their freshman year, Ted’s dad tells him in no uncertain terms that he needs to get his head on straight. He can play pretend at being a rock star like Eddie Van Halen if, and only if, he tries out for -- and makes -- some team at school. He needs some activity that will toughen him up, Captain Logan reasons.

Something that will make him less soft.

Something that will make him less Ted.

Bill muses that Captain Logan needs some activity that will make him less of a dickweed but he doesn’t say it out loud because Ted gets upset when he says things like that because he’s the only parent that Ted’s got left and Ted doesn’t want to make the cosmos mad or something.

So in the couple of hours every day just before and after the sun comes up, Bill and Ted ride their bikes to Sam Dimas High School and run about a thousand laps around the track. Ted’s not very good at running. His gait is too inefficient and he just really doesn’t have any heart in it anyway. Him and Bill have decided that the best team for Ted to try out for is wrestling because all he has to do is not get pinned by one person at a time.

Bill’s dad thinks it’s great that they’ve been getting outside and getting in shape but he doesn’t push Bill to do one thing or another. Bill’s never been a sports kind of dude so the whole thing does confuse his dad a little but he realizes that it’s more about being a good pal than actually wanting to go out for a team so he leaves well enough alone.

Bill flops down in the grass in the middle of the track after lap number five and watches Ted make his slow way around one more time. They’ve been working on their stamina, doing just one more lap every few days. When they started out they were both winded after the very first circuit.

Ted has his hair pulled up into a ponytail on the back of his head but a bunch of it is in his face anyway. It looks strange, Bill thinks. He wonders if the coach will make him cut it? He doesn’t imagine that it’ll all fit in those dumb little hats that the wrestling team wears.

Ted walks it off and then collapses beside Bill in the grass. “Dude, I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.”

“Well, we should probably start doing some weights or something. I don’t think the gym is gonna let us in, though.”

They’re quiet, staring up at the watery blue sky while they catch their breath and their sweat cools on their skin. Bill wants to go to the craft store later. He just filled up the last few pages of his sketchbook and he could use some new pencils. He debates to himself whether or not to ask Ted to come with him. Ted’s always trying to buy supplies for him and it's embarrassing to argue about it at the register while the babe with the nose ring rolls her eyes and taps her nails on the counter.

“I think my mom’s stuff might still be in the basement. She used to do those Jane Fonda tapes. She had these pink weights.”

“That could work, dude.”

“They were really light though.”

“Gotta start somewhere!”

“You’re totally right, dude.”

They’re running miles in the morning before the summer is over completely and Bill keeps going with Ted even after try-outs are done. Ted makes the team by some most miraculous stroke. He’s not very good but it seems like they need new members and he’s not the worst either. Ted says the coach says he can use his height against his opponents, his long legs and arms are easier to lock and harder to shake off.

“Varsity octopus, duder.”

Ted laughs at the joke and when Bill draws an octopus in pencils and charcoal and just a little bit of colorful chalk, Ted asks if he can have it to hang up in his locker. Bill is happy to give it to him. It’s very personal, he realizes. Like Ted wants to have a little piece of him. They’ve both got goofy Polaroids and movie ticket stubs and pictures ripped out of music magazines and off of posters -- all things that _are_ personal -- in their lockers. But this is something Bill _made_ with his own two hands.

For the first time, Bill realizes that Ted _is_ his most excellent, best friend.

He always thought so, of course. They’re together all the time. Bill can’t even imagine what he’d ever do if Ted wasn’t there. But it sinks in then. Gets into his brain.

He’s ashamed at how vapid he’s been about the whole thing.

Bill keeps working out with Ted, sneaking into the athletes’ weight room. Bill likes the working out. He likes how it makes him feel -- tired but also full of energy. He’s not really interested in being big and beefy and neckless like the varsity football players that seem to _live_ in the weight room, though, and he can’t picture Ted that way, either. He tries to think of what Ted might look like with big, tree trunk legs while he lays back on a squeaky machine and pushes a big metal block up and down with his feet. He laughs and tries to cover it up with a cough and almost drops the dumbbell he’s holding on his toes.

By the time they’re sophomores they have a seamless schedule down. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Ted has wrestling. On Fridays, when Bill doesn’t have Art Club meetings, he sits on the bleachers and draws until practice is over and they ride their bikes home together. Bill brings extra sandwiches with him to school. They’re usually pretty soggy by the end of the day, he can never get the peanut butter to jelly ratio right, but Ted inhales them anyway, with one hand on his bike and the other clutched around the saran-wrapped _Wonder Bread_. 

Tuesday nights they order take out and watch a movie at Bill’s house. Thursdays are usually spent catching up on all the homework they should have done the three days before. Saturdays are for band rehearsal. 

On Sunday, Captain Logan usually demands that Ted is home. He’s got some kind of complex about family dinners. They never go well but Ted obliges because it’s easier.

When Ted has competitions on the weekends, if they’re not too far away, Bill’s dad drives him out to wherever they are and he stands in the crowd shouting along with everyone else in the awful, sweat stinking gymnasiums around the county.

Everything is swell, Bill thinks, one Friday when he’s searching for a corner of blank space to doodle in. The pages are already full of little sketches. He looks from the open book to the floor where Ted is getting thrown down onto the mat.

He snaps the book shut and shoves it in his backpack. He should get ahead on the reading for English class, anyway. _Doctor Faustus_ , isn’t that long and then he won’t have to read it during the week.


	3. Chapter 3

The day Ted announces that he’s quitting wrestling is the day that Captain Logan issues the first threat.

Junior year has just started and competition season is just around the corner. Ted made a commitment. He can’t just bail on that commitment. It was a poor character. He’s as unreliable as Captain Logan always thought he was. A total flake. Half the reason he was passing some of his classes was because he was on that team, Captain Logan wants him to know. Being on the team was the only thing keeping him on the straight and narrow. It’s the only thing giving him any kind of structure. If he leaves the team then what will he do? Sit around in the afternoons with Bill making noise in the garage?

If Ted fell behind, or did just that -- hanging around, making noise -- Ted would find himself with a one-way ticket to  _ Oats Military Academy _ .

Bill is there when it happens. Captain Logan makes him leave but he just goes around to the side of the house and waits where he can’t be seen. When his car pulls away from the house and tears off down the street in the direction of the police station, Bill jogs back over to the front door and lets himself inside.

Ted tells him everything while they sit in the kitchen and Bill starts an assembly line of sandwiches. They’re not too soggy because they’re getting eaten right away. Ted’s dad buys crunchy peanut butter, though, so the holes in the bread are hard to avoid. There’s strawberry jam though, which Bill thinks is surprising because it was the nasty grape stuff that was on sale last week and he definitely saw Captain Logan at the market. Deacon likes strawberry, though, so maybe he splurged.

Ted looks like he’s far away, looking at something in the distance that isn’t there. Bill remembers that look from Mrs. Logan’s funeral -- like he was very lost and maybe not entirely inside of his own body. Ted picks up a half of the sandwich that Bill pushes toward him on a paper plate and bites into it right in the middle. It leaves a line of peanut butter and pinkish jam across his face like he’s Jack Nicholson. Bill doesn’t think Ted would look good in the orange shirt and purple suit, though.

“Do you think he’d really send me away?” Ted finally asks when they’re each three sandwiches deep. Deacon has come and gone, taking the pile of inexpert cuisine up to his room. “He says the school is in Alaska.”

“I don’t know, dude. I think he talks a big game, how many times has he really been serious? But this… this is a most unexpected turn of events.”

Ted laughs bitterly. “Who could’ve guessed quitting wrestling would put me on a plane to the arctic?”

“My friend, between us, I think that your dad is being  _ most _ , most unreasonable.”

Ted just nods and swipes his thumb over a smear of peanut butter on the corner of his mouth. He licks it off and gets up to put the debris of their meal away. “C’mon,” he says. “Lets go to the  _ Circle K _ , I should get another loaf of bread.” He picks up the limp plastic sleeve, hardly enough slices to make lunches tomorrow for three people left.

“Hey, Ted?” Bill asks while they browse the aisles of the store. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Depends on the question, my friend.”

Bill nods, trying to find the right words to ask with and deciding that just asking directly is best. “Why did you quit?” Silence hangs heavy between them while Ted fills his arms with cans of chocolate pudding. “You were pretty good at it, weren’t you? You won a bunch of matches.”

Ted sighs and chews the inside of his cheek and takes another pudding off the shelf. “Yeah I was okay at it. And I liked the winning parts. Hearing everyone cheering like that.” He cracks half a wistful smile and moves down the aisle toward the snack packs of cheesy crackers. “But it didn’t really… bring me joy? I wasn’t doing it for me. It just felt like a chore and I’m sick of getting my uniform yanked up my ass. It’s worse than getting kicked in the nuts sometimes, you know? You can’t tell the ref you need a break to pick your wedgie, you just gotta keep going, and then the dumb uniform gets all twisted up on your legs and it’s a chain reaction of inconvenience.”

Bill can’t help but laugh at that. He grabs a loaf of bread to replace the one they ate and balances it on top of the box of chocolate frosted doughnuts he’s got immediate plans for.

“You know how you feel when you’re doing one of those rad paintings?”

“I’m not really sure what you mean, duder.”

Ted sighs heavily. “When you’re doing your art things.”

Bill nods.

“Any art thing.”

Bill nods.

“You feel real relaxed, right?”

Bill nods.

“You don’t think about anything else  _ except _ the art thing.”

Bill nods.

“And you just… you feel nice, right? Not worrying about anything else, just enjoying what you’re doing.”

Bill nods.

“And that feeling that you get when you finish something and it looks really cool?”

“Yeah!”

“I wanna feel that, too. Wrestling doesn’t make me feel that.”

“Well, what does, my friend?”

“I think… I think playing music might. I know we don’t really know how to play very well -- or at all. But when I have that guitar in my hand I feel like nothing can possibly go wrong.”

Bill puts his things down on the counter and Ted adds his and they pool their money to pay for it all and they only have to put two puddings back to make it work. The whole thing gives Bill  _ much _ to consider. He never realized Ted felt so strongly about the band. It was always something to do and definitely something he knew they aspired to, but for Ted it was  _ serious _ business.

They spoil their dinners on puddings and cheesy crackers and Bill rides his bike home slowly with a shopping bag containing half the box of doughnuts dangling from his handlebars. 

His dad sticks his head out from the kitchen when he gets through the door. “Oh! I was just about to call over to the Logans’ -- Ted with you?” 

Bill shakes his head and slumps into the kitchen, his bag of sweets in hand. 

“I completely forgot about groceries this week. How about  _ Naugles _ for dinner?”

“Sounds great, duder.”

Bill’s dad frowns. “You okay?”

Bill nods. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Something a triple order of nachos can solve?”

Bill grins. “Heck, yeah! Totally!”

“You wanna call Ted up? Dinner on me, you can tell him Deacon and John are invited, too.”

Bill considers it for a moment. “Can it be just us?”

“Yeah, kid. We haven’t hung out in a long time, it’ll be nice.”

“ _ Yeck _ , don’t make it all sappy, Dad.” They would, Bill reasoned, be hanging out more if his dad spent less time sucking face with  _ Missy _ , of all people, and more time at home with Bill like he used to. At least they weren’t married or anything.

He peeks into the bag Bill is still holding onto. Some of the chocolate has melted and they really look terrible but they’ll still taste okay, Bill thinks. His dad puts them in the fridge and closes the door with a sense of finality. “You ready to go?”

“Ah, yeah, sure.” Bill ditches his backpack and follows his dad out to the garage, feeling very bogusly vulnerable sitting in the passenger’s seat of the wagon. He tries to sit up taller in the seat and it helps a little.

At the restaurant, Bill surprises himself with the sheer volume of nachos and tacos-in-the-form-of-burgers that he manages to put away. Considering, of course, the series of sandwiches and cheesy crackers and pudding that was already burning a hole in his gut. It’s stress, he’s sure. But he’s  _ not _ sure what exactly he’s stressed about. Finally, instead of the actual vomit he thinks might be on the way, word-vomit comes up.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Mm?”

“If I disappointed you, would you send me away?”

“What?” his dad laughs in disbelief.

“How about if I wasn’t doing okay in school, or… or if I messed up really bad. Like failed a class kind of bad… or ditched a big responsibility because I didn’t like it anymore?” Bill picks up the tall plastic cup in front of him and chugs half the soda in it. Breathless, he just keeps going, spewing words right into his dad’s bewildered face. “I know I’m not like  _ the best _ at school stuff and I know I’m not like, super sporty or whatever -- and I know that you’re worried that I haven’t really thought about what I wanna do. Go to college or, like, work at the  _ Circle K _ or -- well --”

“Bill, what is this about?”

“Ted’s dad said he has to go to military school.”

“What?”

“Yeah! In Alaska! It’s  _ heinous.  _ Most completely, utterly  _ egregious _ .”

“Ted… Ted’s a good kid. Did he do something terrible? That seems… extreme.”

“He told his dad he doesn’t want to wrestle anymore. He wants to focus on music. And he might not be doing, like,  _ super _ rad in school -- but I don’t think that’s a good reason to send him off to snowy, frozen  _ death _ .” 

Bill grabs a large clump of half-congealed nachos and shoves it in his mouth. He crunches and breathes hard through his nose and immediately regrets the impulsive move. His dad nudges Bill’s drink toward him and waits for him to swallow before he answers.

“Billy, I...I agree for the most part. It  _ is _ extreme. But the way John parents his kids, well, it isn’t really our business. And you only know Ted’s side of things -- and that’s fine!” he interjects when he sees the anger painted across Bill’s face. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s probably an empty threat. Ted’s a little flaky, his dad’s probably just trying to scare him straight.”

“Can’t you do anything? Talk to him or something? Tell him how bogus this is?”

“John is  _ not _ going to want to hear my two cents, Bill. But, if I see him -- “

“ _ Thank you _ , Dad,” Bill interrupts. “I knew I could count on you.” His dad pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, nodding in agreement that Bill is pretty sure is only half-hearted.


	4. Chapter 4

“ _ Whoooah! _ ” they shout as they fly through the circuits of time. Neither Bill nor Ted will ever be able to make real sense of what’s happened this night and they’re sure that if they tried to explain it that no one would ever believe them. They’ve just dropped Mr. The Kid back off at the saloon in frontierland, much to the surprise of everyone around who in their time had only just witnessed the phone booth disappearing minutes before -- they suppose they can’t blame anyone else for not believing them when they really think about it.

“Ugh,” Bill complains when they land in his backyard again. “I still hate that part.”

“I wish we could have stayed to hang out a little longer.”

“Those hombres were most unpleased with us, my friend. I think we would have caused more trouble for Mr. The Kid.”

Ted sighs and agrees as they step out of the phone booth. “I guess it’s back to regular life then, huh?”

“How  _ do _ we go back to regular life, dude? We’ve traveled through  _ time _ ! We went to the past!”

“And the future!”

“Yeah!” The phone rings, startling both of them. They look at each other, unsure of what to do. “Well, answer it, dude,” Bill nudges.

“Okay.” Hesitantly, Ted picks up the phone. “Hello? You’ve reached Ted  _ Theodore _ Logan --”

“And Bill S. Preston, Esquire!”

“Can we help you?”

“Hello, boys, I see you’ve passed your history report.”

“Rufus!” Ted exclaims. “We totally did! Thank you for the help, dude!” 

“Most excellent, my friend. I can tell you what number to dial to send the booth back to us, then. Do you have something to write with?”

“Wait! We can’t give you the booth back!”

“And why not?”

“We gotta go back and set stuff up!”

“Oh man, yeah!” Bill remembers. “We need your dad’s keys, and the tape recorder and…”

“We gotta write that note to ourselves! And drop that garbage can on my dad’s head.” Ted grins at the idea and Bill perfectly understands the feeling.

“Alright,” Rufus says on the other end of the line at the other end of time. “I’ll give you the number to dial and you can do it when you’re ready. Make sure you get  _ everything _ that needs to be in place done -- otherwise everything you did already will be for naught!”

“Yes, sir, mister Future Dude, sir!” Ted salutes the phone and hangs it up after Bill has run inside to get a scrap of paper and pen to take down the number Rufus gives them. 

And then, they’re back in  _ Time _ and everything just… falls away.

It’s a weird kind of euphoria, flying through the fabric of the universe itself with his most excellent -- most cherished -- friend beside him, Bill thinks. Reality passes over and under them and it’s like they’re in a little private submarine, swimming through a huge ocean of stars. They flip and flop and zoom through the highways and byways of  _ everything _ and Ted grips his hand way too hard but they’re getting thrown around inside the booth so Bill doesn’t mind so much.

First, they get the keys. If they don’t get those they’re totally up the creek without a paddle. They travel back to the night before everything started and Ted sneaks into his own house with the spare out of the flowerpot. His dad’s briefcase is right by the door and it doesn’t take long to dig around and find his work keys inside. They lock up, replace the spare, and get going before anyone wakes up.

Next, they go back to yesterday afternoon. In Ted’s empty house -- Past Bill and Ted having their own excellent adventure, Deacon out for the day at baseball practice, and Captain Logan at the station -- they set up everything else that they can. The tape recorder and the timer are first on the list. They can’t even use the keys if they don’t get Ted’s dad out of the way.

Bill takes special pleasure in painting  _ Wyld Stallyns Rulez _ on the garbage can they plan to drop onto Captain Logan’s head.

And then…

It’s all for naught anyway.

Bill is still buzzing with excitement, totally unable to sleep. 

They’d all gone out to celebrate after Rufus brought the babes back to San Dimas. It had been most triumphant, all four of them sitting together at the movies and then the princesses talking about how incredible it was while they sat in a booth at a chain restaurant and ate cheeseburgers and fries for the very first time. The ladies explained to them that Rufus had set them up with an apartment and stuff when they realized that they didn’t know where to drop them off at when the night was over.

“Rufus is a most resourceful dude, Bill,” Ted mumbled while the babes chattered almost too fast to understand in the back seat of the wagon. “It’s almost like he knew everything that would happen already -- he knew exactly where to go and stuff!”

“I  _ know _ dude, it’s wild. I’m glad though, I don’t think we would have been able to pull all that off. They’ve got  _ credit cards _ , dude. How did Rufus manage that? The teller at the bank barely believes my check from  _ Pretzles N Cheese _ is real.”

They pulled up to a nice building in a quiet part of the city and the princesses had to show them the little name label next to their button on the intercom:  _ HRH’s Jo & Bess _

Bill and Ted walked the babes all the way upstairs and each got really sweet kisses for their efforts. On the cheek, sure, but it counted!

When Bill dropped Ted off at home he’d put on a high voice and batted his eyelashes and thanked Bill for the ride. They’d laughed until their stomachs hurt after Bill blocked Ted’s face with his hand and Bill had grinned the whole way home.

The  _ Stallyns _ were saved. The  _ princesses _ were saved. Ted was saved.

Bill’s dad is already in bed when he gets home and he supposes Missy is too because the house is quiet. The television isn’t blaring in the den and no one is yammering on the telephone. Bill tiptoes up the stairs, skipping over the squeaky step carefully and darting into his room. 

It feels like a night for his favorite pajamas. They’re not fancy or anything, it’s just a tee shirt and some sweatpants, but they’re the most comfortable articles of clothing Bill owns and he avoids wearing them too much so they don’t get wrecked in the wash -- especially now that Missy has taken over the odd selection of what she calls  _ wifely duties _ and mostly half-hearted at that. He tells her he can do his own wash. He can do everyone’s wash! He’d been doing it since he was thirteen and negotiated a bump in his allowance to buy his very own guitar. But, she insists. And that’s how he ends up with  _ most  _ non-inconspicuous holes in his shirts.

So, Bill puts on the pajamas and dives into bed and even as cozy as he is, he’s too excited about absolutely everything to sleep. He lays for hours recounting the day in his head and smiling to himself.

Life is never going to be the same and it’s in the most triumphant way -- he flops back and forth and really  _ just  _ can’t stop grinning.

Until, that is, the phone rings. It’s the private line in his room -- the one he pays for with his money from  _ Pretzles N Cheese _ every month so it’s  _ his _ and only  _ his _ \-- so it can only be one person. Ted must not be able to sleep, either, Bill thinks. He must be too wired, too. He’ll have to give Joanna his number and find out what hers is. He grabs the phone as quick as he can, dragging the whole thing off of the shelf behind him and laying back down with it.

“You’ve reached the office of Bill S. Preston, Esquire -- how may I direct your call?” he greets softly.

“Bill? It’s me, dude,” Ted whispers.

Bill laughs and tries to smother the sound in his pillow. “I know, dude. I think you’re the only one that even has this number. I don’t think a telemarketer would be calling now.”

“Can I come over? I gotta get out of here.”

“It’s really late, Ted -- Dad and Missy are in bed.”

“Bill, please.” Ted’s voice breaks and Bill realizes this is a most urgent matter.

“You gotta come up to the window, though, okay?”

“Okay, just remember to open it this time, my friend.”

Ted hangs up without another word and Bill frowns at the phone for a moment before he hangs it up. More than a little confused, he rolls out of bed and over to the window. Quiet as he can, he opens the shutters and pushes the glass up, cringing when it squeals. He sits on the ledge, watching a raccoon make its slow way up the block while he waits for Ted to appear. 

Soon enough, the shadow of him riding his bike stretches up the block in the bright parts of the street under the lamps. He disappears for a moment, stashing the bike on the side of the house in the bushes and then there’s the rustling of leaves while he climbs the trellis. He’s a shifting lump in the darkness as he climbs and then very suddenly his face pops up and he sticks out his hand for Bill to help him. They both cringe and freeze when Ted tumbles into the room and Bill shuts the window again carefully.

Bill flops back onto the bed and reaches over to turn the light on. “So, what’s going on, Ted?”

“My dad’s sending me to military school in Alaska.”

Bill laughs. “Dude, did you get confused with all the time travelling? We already took care of that! Aced the report -- we’re golden!”

Ted sits down, shaking his head. “He’s sending me anyway. He says that passing History just showed that I could be disciplined if I really wanted to be and that going to Alaska will… How did he put it?” Ted scratches his head and frowns so hard Bill thinks his face might be broken. “I can’t remember. But he thinks it’ll make me be as motivated as that all the time.”

“Well, that’s just  _ entirely _ bogus, dude. Completely heinous.” 

Bill doesn’t know what to say. He’s  _ angry _ . They worked so hard! They did so much! And Captain Logan was just going to yank the carpet out from under them anyway? And how come Rufus didn’t know about this -- or did he know and he just didn’t bother to tell them? 

“I leave on July First.”

“What?”

“At least it’s not tomorrow night, I guess.”

“We can call Rufus again! He’ll help us figure out how to keep you here.”

“Bill, how can we call him? Our phones can’t call the future like the booth could.”

“But maybe if we just dialed the number he gave us to send the booth  _ back _ , it might work to bring it here again!”

Ted doesn’t seem to hear anything Bill says. He looks defeated. His whole body sags toward the floor. “Can I stay here tonight, dude?”

“Of course. But won’t your dad wonder where you are?”

“I’m sure he can put two and two together. I don’t think I really care anymore.” Ted swings his backpack onto the floor and kicks his shoes off. “I forgot my sleeping bag, dude. Could I use one of your pillows?”

“I -- um -- yeah, dude. Yeah.” 

Bill hands Ted a pillow and Ted shuffles over to the other side of the bed where there’s more space. He drops down onto the floor. “Thanks, man,” he mumbles.

Bill doesn’t know what to say. “Ted, don’t sleep on the floor.”

“I can go downstairs on the couch then? I didn’t wanna freak out your parents if they came down and found me.”

Bill throws the covers back on the bed and moves over to one side. “Come up here, dude.”

“Are you sure?”

“Duh?”

“It won’t be weird?”

“Why would it be weird?”

“I dunno.” Ted shrugs. “It just would.”

“Do you want some pajamas?”

“No,” Ted groans, pulling himself up off the floor and into bed. He flops so hard onto the mattress that Bill nearly bounces out the other side. “I’m okay.”

Ted lets Bill arrange the blanket over the two of them, scooting in closer when their backs aren’t covered. Bill reaches over to turn out the light and settles back down again, staring up at the ceiling. He can feel Ted’s breath against his face and neck. The side of his body is warm where Ted is touching him.

“Try to get some rest, Ted,” Bill says softly. He feels like he should be gentle and quiet. It’s so late. His dad and Missy are asleep. The house is so still. Ted is so sad. “We’ll figure things out in the morning. I won’t let you go to Alaska -- I don’t think my dad’ll let you go, either, dude. We can ask him to talk to yours -- talk some sense into him.”

“Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“You know that you are my  _ most _ excellent friend. My honored colleague.”

“I hope so! Same, though.”

“So, being my most excellent friend and honored colleague, you’d do whatever you needed to, to make me happy?”

It feels like a loaded question. The words are awkward, like they’re talking about being something other than what they’re talking about. “Well, yeah, dude. What do you need?”

“I don’t want you to try to stop it.” 

Bill sits up, utterly flabbergasted. 

“I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna argue with my dad. I don’t wanna fight with him. I just… I wanna enjoy the time before I have to go. Make the best of it, right? I want to have a little bit of summer first. Hang out with you -- get to know the princesses!” Ted’s been addressing the pillows this whole time, refusing to look up at Bill. “Can you promise me that, dude?”

“But  _ why _ , dude? We can’t -- “

“We can’t waste time, Bill. If I learned anything from our most excellent adventure through time, it’s that.” Ted looks up at him and something inside of Bill feels like it’s snapped in two.

“Okay.” Bill settles down again and frowns at the ceiling, trying really hard not to look so mad.

“Bill, you gotta promise.”

“Ted  _ Theodore _ Logan, I promise.”

“Thanks, Bill.” He holds the blanket up while Bill shifts over, turning onto his side. “It means a lot.”

“I don’t like it.”

Ted closes his eyes and sighs. “I know.” His face splits into a grin that’s like sunshine even in the darkness. “Tomorrow’s a new day, right? We can plan something with the princesses! Give them the tour of San Dimas.”

Bill wakes up with his alarm. It’s Saturday, there’s no school obviously, but he likes to keep everything consistent. When he sleeps in then he’s thrown off and tired for days after. There’s a bunch of birds in the tree outside his window and they’re very loud. There is something very heavy and hot practically on top of him. His head is tipped back way to far and when he tries to move he bumps his chin on something solid, cracking his teeth together.  _ Ow,  _ he thinks, trying to make his stiff body move. Wasn’t this all supposed to hold off until you were thirty or something?

Finally registering everything around him, the absolute madness of the last two days hits Bill again like a pile of bricks. The heavy, warm thing half on top of him snuffles and shifts and Bill remembers that Ted came over in the middle of the night. Ted climbed up to his window. Ted told him that he was leaving even after all that they’d done to stop it from happening. And then Ted crawled into his bed and told him not to fight and they’d fallen into uneasy sleep huddled together under Bill’s summer bedding.

Ted’s head is tucked under Bill’s chin and his face is smooshed against Bill’s chest. His hands are curled into fists in Bill’s shirt and his knees are very carefully tucked up so that tall, gangly Ted is approximately the shape of a large lima bean.

Bill rubs his eyes and tries to move his heavy, dead limbs without bothering Ted too much. He needs the sleep, Bill thinks. They were both running on adrenaline and Ted didn’t come home to a quiet, relaxed house like Bill did.

Ted’s hand closes around Bill’s when he tries to free himself from the pinching clutch of Ted’s fingers against his ribs.

Bill has to turn his face away. His eyes feel prickly. It must be the start of allergy season, he reasons.

Bill looks around the room so he doesn’t have to look at Ted and notices the door is closed. He doesn’t remember closing it. He startles a little when someone knocks. He feels like he should pull the covers up over his head and hide.

“Bill?”

“Yeah, Dad?” he answers weakly.

“Missy is sleeping in so I’m making breakfast. Does Ted still like fried eggs?”

Ted shifts, rousing for just a moment, and relaxes back into sleep again. “Yeah, Dad, thanks,” Bill answers.

Bill doesn’t relax until he hears his dad step on the squeaky stair.


	5. Chapter 5

They make the most of the summer -- that is, what little they have of it.

They show the princesses around San Dimas and learn how very surprisingly self-sufficient the ladies are. Bill and Ted assumed that they’d need lots of help but they figure things out fast. Even faster once they learn about the public library.

They go to the beach and hang out on the boardwalk.

They go to the park and they hike out to the lake.

They spend a whole weekend at Disney and Bill gets a little emotional when they go to see the robot Abraham Lincoln. He’s glad that the babes are totally amazed by it because it lets him ignore the weird knot that develops right in the middle of his body and squishes his stomach and his lungs out of the way.

The more time that Bill spends with Joanna, the more utterly taken by her she is.

She’s… resplendent.  _ Most _ resplendent. Outstanding, even. She’s so smart and so kind. And she’s picking up percussion so quickly! When she taps out rhythms on the drums while they’re all hanging out in Bill’s garage he can almost hear what an actual song might sound like.

And she seems to like him a lot too.

It’s weird, Bill thinks, to have this mutual like-ness. He’s never been out with a babe that he’s actually felt that from before. He’s really only ever thought Ted liked him this way. How they both enjoy the other’s company. How they look for each other in the group. How  _ comfortable _ they are together. They can just chill and Bill doesn’t feel like he has to fill the air with talking or anything.

It feels like the four of them -- Joanna and Bill and Ted and Elizabeth -- are becoming a little unit. They’re glued together more often than not and it’s not lost on Bill that everyone around them notices it. Their pals from school, Bill’s dad, Missy -- heck, even Deacon has something to say about it. Captain Logan seems indifferent to the whole thing but Bill is long since passed caring about what Captain Logan things about anything.

The closer they creep toward the block on the calendar where Ted has drawn a little red  _ X _ , the faster the time seems to go. The princesses don’t seem to be aware that the moments are getting shorter and the seconds more precious. Bill supposes that it’s a hazard of how short a time they’ve really known the babes in comparison to the years stretched out behind himself and Ted all the way to that first week that Bill moved into town and the weird boy who hid behind his mother slapped down a box of washable markers between then on a table under fluorescent classroom lighting.

Ted, for his part, has schooled himself into a most curious state of denial and resignation.

He won’t hear it when Bill comes up with plans to keep him home from Alaska. He brushes it away when Bill suggests they go to the county courthouse and find out how Ted can emancipate himself -- then he can come and live with Bill and if his dad won’t let them turn the den into Ted’s room then he’d get rid of his own bed and put some bunk beds in his room.

They could finish high school together like they’re supposed to.

They could decide if they wanted to apply to take classes over at Chaffey. Rancho Cucamonga was only like twenty minutes away. They didn’t even need to worry about dorms or anything like that. Bill didn’t know what kind of classes they could possibly take but it seemed like that’s what other people were doing so he guessed it’s something they should consider, too.

And then, one night when Bill has decided he’s going to stop counting the days that he has left with his most excellent friend and esteemed colleague -- the days until  _ Wyld Stallyns _ loses half of its founding members and a quarter of its line-up -- Ted calls him.

“Can I come over?” he asks quietly on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, dude!” 

Bill is glad that Ted wants to. He’d had to do a dumb  _ family thing _ that afternoon. MIssy had demanded he put on his best clothes and they’d all went over to  _ Sears _ and gotten their pictures taken. Bill felt like a total idiot when the photographer asked him to stand closer to his  _ sister _ and he’d wanted to just melt right off the face of the Earth when they’d realized it was his  _ mom _ and changed the whole way that they all were arranged so that Missy and his dad were more like a couple. He wants to tell Ted all about it and get the gross feeling out of his brain.

“Your parents are home?”

“Uh, huh. I don’t think dad put the leftovers away yet, did you wanna come for dinner?”

Ted hesitates before he answers. Bill can hear him breathing into the phone, then softly: “No, we ate. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay! Is everything alright? You don’t sound so good, duder.”

“I’ll tell you when I get there.”

Ted hangs up without another word. It’s weird and abrupt and out of character and something  _ must _ be wrong. Bill leans over to put the phone back in the cradle beside the bed and brushes the clump of clippings and Polaroids taped to the edge of the shelf because Missy saw the push-pins and flipped her wig as if it were  _ her _ shelf that the pins were in. Something goes fluttering down and slips between the edge of the mattress and the shelf and Bill has to get down on his hands and knees and feel around in the dark beneath the bed to find it.

Bill brushes the dust and crumbs from the floor of the picture and snorts at it. Ted is draped in strings of bright plastic beads. He’s offering up a peace sign and Elizabeth is behind him fixing the huge bow out of her own hair onto his.

Bill wonders if Ted will be different when he comes home from Alaska? Will he still be goofy and Ted-like? He shakes his head, trying to shake the notion of a boring, bland Ted right out of it. It won’t happen. They could never take  _ the Ted _ out of Ted.

Bill digs through the drawer in his desk and finds the roll of tape empty.

He takes a push-pin out of the cracked plastic box and goes back over to sit on the edge of the bed. He drives the pin right through the corner of the picture and into the shelf.

It’s not long until the doorbell rings and Bill comes out and hops down the stairs two at a time but his dad gets to the door first anyway.

“Hi, Mr. Preston,” Ted greets. He’s most subdued and even Bill’s dad seems to notice. He turns and shoots a concerned look in Bill’s direction and all Bill can offer in return is a shrug. Ted slips inside the door and moves toward the stairs. “Hey, dude.”

Bill’s dad frowns and Missy comes bounding out of the living room to join them. “Do you guys want ice cream?” He grabs his keys from the bowl and looks at Bill like he’s trying to communicate something more than just about a cone with a swirl on top. Missy hooks her arm through his and starts to pull him out the door, deciding that they’ll just bring something back for Bill and Ted anyway.

Bill shakes his head when they’re finally out the door and gestures for Ted to follow him into the kitchen. He put a couple of Cokes into the freezer earlier and they should be at  _ optimal  _ levels of chilled by now. Bill revels in the perfectly satisfied sound Ted makes when he sips from the super-cold glass and his grin when he presses it against the side of his face.

They sit at the counter for a few minutes in silence, just sipping and being in each other’s presence. Finally, Bill can’t take it any more.

“So, what’s up, dude?”

“My dad made me go shopping for stuff for Alaska. It was like… you know when we used to go back to school shopping when we were kids?”

Bill laughs. “Yeah! Your mom got you all the cool notebooks and stuff.” He frowns and has to stop himself from pouting too much. “Dad just got me the ones they had in the seasonal aisle at the supermarket.”

Ted smirks. It was always a point of contention. He had the coolest notebooks and pencil cases and folders. Bill always had plain ones -- but he covered them in doodles and patterns and paint and permanent marker when he could get his hands on one, so really, who got the better deal?

“Well,” Ted continues. “It was like that except, like…  _ most _ dejectory.” Bill waits for him to spit it out. “I’m allowed a certain number of plain underwear and undershirts and socks and stuff. It’s most strange, my friend.  _ Most _ strange. I’m not even allowed to bring my own pajamas! So we went to  _ Sears _ and had -- “

“You were there today?  _ I  _ was there today.”

“Dude.”

“I know! I wasn’t having a very good time, either.”

“Anyway, we got the stuff and then Dad decided I need a suitcase because our luggage is up in the attic with Mom’s stuff in it. And everything… everything fits into this one sad little cube.”

“Bogus.”

“I know!” Ted sighs and spins his empty bottle on the counter, watching it go around and around for a moment. “I could deal with it though. I guess I was kind of expecting something dumb like that. Military school, right? You’re supposed to be a carbon-copy. But Dad left the handbook thing out and I was browsing it and part of the uniform is that they shave all your hair off on the first day.”

“Heinous!” Bill feels outrage bubbling in his chest. “Most egregious!” 

Half of Ted’s whole look is his hair and it’s  _ his _ hair. He’s not going into the army or whatever -- it’s  _ just _ a dumb school. Whatever happened to bodily autonomics?

Ted looks like he’s struggling with something. He taps the bottom of his Coke bottle on the counter like he’s testing it. “Can I ask you something, Bill?”

“Of course, dude.”

“Will you cut my hair?”

“What?”

“Will you cut it for me? I -- “ Ted’s whole face turns red at once and he chews on his lips and Bill is kind of worried that he really is going to break the bottle. “I don’t want them to do it. I don’t want them to touch me.”

“I --  _ you _ \-- you… we should wait until Dad gets back. He’s better at it than I am, you know?”

Bill touches his head to emphasize his point. The last time someone at a salon or a barber touched his hair was right before they moved to San Dimas and it was  _ bad _ . Bill hadn’t ever seen his dad get that upset before. 

Thinking about it later, there was totally something more going on. But how was Bill supposed to know that then? He just knew his hair was messed up and he remembers really wanting to cry but feeling really silly for it.

When they got home the only solution was to cut all his hair even shorter to try to make it all even and then the curls were all over the place because they weren’t really long enough to stick together the right way. After that, his dad dropped a bunch of money on clippers and it was home-hair cuts ever since.

Ted considers it for a moment and shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to look good,” he decides. “I want  _ you _ to do it.” Ted runs his hands through his hair, thinking about it again. “Just shave it all off.”

Bill gapes at him, his voice lost. “Whatever you want, Ted.”

“Could we do it now?” Ted’s voice breaks and he coughs to cover it.

Bill can’t find it in himself to refuse.

They wait long enough for Bill to finish his Coke and then they plod uptstairs. Bill moves slowly, trying to stall. He can’t decide where would be best. His dad usually has him sit on one of the stools at the kitchen counter but he feels like that’s too out in the open and this is something…

Something most private and personal. Something Ted has entrusted him with.

“Uhm, ah -- “ Bill hesitates on the upstairs landing, twisting around and looking at the doors. “The bathroom? Yeah. Um, you could go in there and wait and I’ll get, um, I’ll get stuff?”

Ted nods and follows directions and Bill takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the agitation itching at his stomach and chest. He drags his desk chair from the bedroom to the bathroom and clunks it against the door trying to get it inside. Ted helps and then sits down, sighing very heavily as he drops onto the seat. Bill gets a big beach towel out of the linen closet in the hall and drapes it over Ted’s shoulders like a cape. Ted clutches it closed in front of himself and waits.

Bill takes his time finding the case with the clippers. He’s not sure that telling Ted again that he doesn’t know what he’s doing will make him change his mind. There are a bunch of different comb parts in the case and he’s not sure which one to use. He wants to… he wants to get rid of all of Ted’s hair. He gulps, he  _ doesn’t _ , but if he wants to cut it very short it seems like he should use the shortest comb. He fixes the comb in place and plugs the thing in.

“Are you ready?” he asks Ted. Bill’s not ready.

“Uh huh.” Ted grips the edges of the towel even tighter around his shoulders and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t let the towel or the breath go.

Bill turns the clippers on and they buzz in his hand and the sound echoes off the bathroom tile. Ted’s got so much hair, Bill doesn’t know where to start. He supposes from the bottom is probably best. He moves his hair up and out of the way and sets the tip of the comb under Ted’s ear and Ted cringes and squeezes his eyes shut at the sound.

“Sorry, dude.”

“S’okay.”

Bill starts to move the clippers through Ted’s hair and it snags.  _ Ow _ , Ted whines and taps his feet on the floor very fast. Bill tries to get the clippers out and he has to yank it and a chunk of hair falls and Bill’s kind of horrified by the whole thing. He turns the clippers off and puts them down on the counter. His hands are shaking and he shoves them in his pockets so that Ted can’t see.

Ted’s fingers poke out from behind the towel and he points at the case on the counter. “Maybe if you cut it with the scissors first so it doesn’t get stuck, dude.”

“Yeah, ah, sure.”

Bill picks up the scissors and runs his free hand through Ted’s hair. He feels a little like it’s some kind of obscene gesture when he does it. Ted’s hair is so thick and running his fingers through it, it feels warm underneath. Bill blinks really fast trying to clear the hazy blur in his eyes and turns to wipe his face against his sleeve. Finally, he twists just a small bit together and lifts the scissors.

“You ready?”

“Bill, just do it,  _ please _ .”

Ted closes his eyes again and pulls the towel around himself as tight as it will go. His knee jiggles up and down. Bill opens the scissors and closes them around the twisted bit of hair he’s holding onto and he’s gotta saw through it and that just makes things worse. When the scissors close all the way and the hair isn’t attached to Ted anymore Bill opens his hand and drops it, horrified. The hair falls toward the floor, some of it sticking to the towel on the way down.

“Are you okay?”

Ted nods and breathes out all in a rush. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Bill picks up another chunk of hair but he doesn’t twist it around this time, just holds it flat between his fingers and snips. It’s easier this way, the scissors cut through faster and smoother and it doesn’t feel as horrible to do. Bill moves as quickly as he can without cutting himself, trying to remember that he can fix it with the clippers. The floor and Ted get covered with inky-dark puddles of hair that Bill does his best to pretend aren’t there.

“How does it look?” Ted asks eventually, his eyes still closed.

Bill doesn’t want to make things worse but he can’t lie about it either. Ted’s going to have to open his eyes eventually and then he’ll see it anyway. “It’s weird, dude. Most abnormal.”

Ted takes a deep breath and lets it all out again. “Just keep going. Finish it, Bill.” 

A bit of hair flutters down into his face and he awkwardly tries to blow it away. Bill reaches forward and brushes it off, his fingers sliding over Ted’s nose and cheeks. They both freeze for a moment until Bill picks up the clippers and turns them back on. 

It’s while Bill is finishing the job that they hear the door open downstairs. Bill’s dad calls out into the house and drops his keys noisily back into the dish by the door.

“Boys?” Missy calls out, “We brought you back sundaes, come eat them before they’re soup!”

It’s quiet again as they move into the kitchen and Bill focuses on the task at hand. He doesn’t want to catch Ted’s ear or pull what little hair he has left. There’s footsteps on the stairs and the squeaky one squeals and then the soft shuffle of sneakers on the carpet.

“Boys, did you hear me? We --  _ gracious _ , what on Earth are you two doing?” Missy’s eyes get very wide when she sees all the hair on the floor and the scissors sitting open on the counter. “What -- what a mess! What has gotten into you boys?” She pushes around Bill and he turns the clippers off and she grabs the scissors and closes them and shoves them back into the case. “What a dangerous thing to be doing with no adults in the house!”

Ted must be feeling  _ most _ bold because he looks at Missy in the mirror and says, “With all due respect, Mrs. Preston, you’re not much more of an adult than either of us is and I asked Bill to do this and I’m not really sure it’s any of your business.”

Missy stands there gaping looking totally shocked for a second before she turns on her heel and shouts down the stairs. “Ian! Ian, come look at what they’ve done!”

Bill’s dad makes his slow, beleaguered way up the stairs and looks a little shocked, too when he looks into the bathroom. “What’s going on here?”

Bill sighs and tries to edge Missy out of the room. “Ted needs a haircut and he asked me to do it, Dad. We’re almost done.”

“This was just… just a spur of the moment decision?”

“No, sir,” Ted says quietly, twisting around in the chair. Bill can’t look at him.

Missy looks like she’s about to pop and with her face all pink she says, “Well, you’re going to have to clean this mess up when you’re done.”

“Yes, Mrs. Preston,” Ted agrees, turning back around. 

Missy just frowns and pushes out of the room. Bill’s dad looks concerned but leaves them to their own devices after asking if they need any help and getting his offer declined. Bill picks the clippers back up and turns them on. 

“Almost done,” he assures Ted and gets back to work.

When they’re finally finished, Ted unwraps himself and carefully folds up the towel so the hair all stuck to it doesn’t go everywhere. He stands up and stares at himself in the mirror. Bill peers over his shoulder, nervous about it. Ted lifts his hands and hesitates, trembling, and then rubs his head. Little bits of hair rain down onto his face and shoulders. There’s a spot that’s much shorter than the rest that Bill hopes isn’t too noticeable.

“I don’t like it,” Ted decides.

“I -- I did my best.”

“No! I know that! You have my undying thanks, dude. It’s just…”

“Not you.”

“Exactly.” 

Ted looks at the floor around him and gulps, breathing hard. Bill reaches out and brushes the bits of hair off his face, avoiding touching his head again. He can’t do it. If he touches it, it’ll all be real. Very abruptly, Ted flings his arms around Bill and squeezes him so tight that he can’t breathe. Awkwardly, arms pinned down, Bill tries to return the hug.

“Thank you, Bill.”

“Of course, Ted.”

“I’m sorry I asked you.”

“Don’t be.” Bill chokes, trying to hold back  _ something _ in his chest. “I’d do anything to help my most excellent friend.”

“I gotta get home,” Ted says, pulling away. “I’ll help clean up.” He starts pushing hair into a pile with his sneaker. “Where’s the dust pan?”

“Don’t worry about it, dude. I’ll totally take care of it.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely!”

Ted squeezes him again and Bill has to hold his breath. “Fag,” he laughs, trying to do the opposite of what his body wants him to do.

They tromp down the stairs and into the kitchen. Bill needs the broom out of the closet and he thinks that Ted should have the ice cream his parents brought home for them even if he’s not staying. Ted asks Bill’s dad if it would be alright if he took his to-go and his dad says that’s fine. He sets his coffee mug and the folded up newspaper he’s doing the crossword in down and gets a brown paper bag out of the freezer. He takes one of the plastic-domed cups and a red plastic spoon out and puts them away again and offers the bag to Ted.

“Thank you, Mr. Preston. You didn’t have to do that.”

“My pleasure, Ted. How’s everything, by the way?”

Ted shrugs, crinkling the top of the bag in his hands. “Just getting ready and stuff. I’m leaving soon.”

“That so?”

“Yes, sir. I hope I didn’t upset Mrs. Preston too much.”

“Missy’s fine. You sure you don’t want to stay and enjoy that? You could spend the night if you want -- just call home and let the Captain know.”

“No, that’s okay. I gotta get home. I have to talk on the phone to Colonel Oats in the morning. I can’t be late for that.”

“Well, you’re welcome any time, Ted.”

“I know, sir. Thanks again,” he holds up the bag and lets Bill guide him to the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, dude.”

“Yeah! Movies with the babes, right?”

“Right!” Ted frowns and goes to touch his head again and stops. “What’s Elizabeth gonna think?”

Bill chews the inside of his cheek and considers it for a minute. “Remember when the baseball team lost the championship or whatever? And they all had to shave their heads because they had that bet with Bonita High?” Ted nods. “All the girls kept rubbing their heads and giggling about how fuzzy and soft everybody was. I don’t think Bess will mind too much, dude.”

“I hope so.” Ted steps away from the front landing and turns back again. “Thanks again, my friend.”

Bill just nods and watches him go. Inside, he grabs the broom and heads up to the bathroom to clean up the wreckage. He moves his desk chair out into the hall and starts to sweep, gathering everything into an ominous, dark pile in the middle of the floor. Bill stops when his dad clears his throat out in the hall. He can’t control himself anymore then. He chokes and the broom falls from his hands, clattering against the tub. 

“Dad,” he croaks.

“You gotta tell me what’s wrong, kid.”

“I --” Bill can’t hardly make any of the words that are rocketing around in his brain come out of his mouth in the right order. “I don’t know!” he wails. He keeps right on wailing into the stiff acrylic of his dad’s sweater vest. “You said you’d help!” he demands, holding tight onto fistfuls of the sweater and letting his dad hold him. “You said you would!”

“I said I’d talk to Captain Logan -- and I did, Billy, I swear it. But he thinks this is the best thing for Ted and no one is going to change that.”

“But he can’t separate us! The universe will stop working right if we’re not together!”

Bill doesn’t know that Missy has joined them until she’s patting his shoulder and talking in her weird mom-voice. “Now, now, I know it  _ feels  _ like that, but --”

“Please go away, Missy -- I mean,  _ Mom _ .”

“Now,  _ Bill _ \--”

“ _ Please _ ,” Bill implores, every last fiber of muscle in the arm she’s touching going totally stone stiff. He just wants her to leave. His dad murmurs something and she huffs and Bill hears the stair squeak. “We worked so hard, Dad.”

“I know, kid.”


	6. Chapter 6

July comes too fast.

Bill is still desperately trying to find a way to make Ted stay. Short of hiding him in the basement or running away and living in a shack on the beach, Bill doesn’t know what to do. And then what will they do with the princesses? Their lives have already been turned upside-down once and it wouldn’t be fair to do that to them again. The four of them are getting along so well, Bill  _ has _ to consider the babes while he’s hatching plans.

He tries every phone number he can think of to call Rufus and he’s pretty sure he somehow calls the CIA or something and then he’s scared to come out of his room and he’s sure he can hear something recording when he picks up the phone again. But, Rufus never answers any of the numbers that Bill tries and when he asks Joanna she says they don’t know how to contact him either. So, Bill never gets to ask if they can use the phone booth and buy themselves more time.

The four of them are hanging out at Bonelli Park in one of the last days they have left. Bill keeps forgetting what day it actually is -- it could very well be  _ the _ last day and he wouldn’t know it. Maybe his brain is trying to protect him or something. He doesn’t question it. He just holds Joanna’s hand and lets her lead him along in her soft, sunny way. They find a spot on the edge of the lake where the sand isn’t overrun with little kids and their parents or other couples being rowdy. They just want some peace together. 

Elizabeth hasn’t really acknowledged yet that Ted is leaving. She goes on making plans like it’s not happening and Ted goes along with it with his biggest, most Ted-like smile and Bill is very worried.

Bess and Ted have gotten so close, Bill can’t imagine them apart. He wants all of the things that they’re planning to happen for them and none of it will. He thinks that perhaps Ted is being a little cruel stringing Bess along like this and he wants to say as much -- but he won’t hurt Ted’s feelings like that and he won’t make Bess sad by suggesting it.

They’re sitting in the sun drying off, crystals forming on their limbs in sand and salt and making them all sparkle. Joanna is laughing at something Bess said, strawberry jelly smeared on her cheek from the sandwich in her hands.

Bill turns her face toward him. “You ah, you got a little something right there, princess.”

“Do I?”

“Mhmm.”

“Will you get it for me?” she laughs. Bill nods and leans in, his tongue out. Joanna shrieks and ducks out of the way and he offers her a napkin out of the bottom of their lunchbox instead. “You’re a monster!” she giggles and pushes him away. She squints, swiping the jelly off her cheek. “A pretty one though, I suppose.”

“Better a pretty monster than an ugly old royal dude, don’t ya think?” Bill laughs when she swats him gently with her flip-flop.

“Hey, guys,” Ted asks, his mouth full of bread and peanut butter. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, dude.”

Everyone turns their attention to Ted, waiting for him to finish swallowing and then while he thinks about what he wants to say.

“Will you come to the airport? You know, when I…” 

He doesn’t finish. Bess frowns and takes another bite of her sandwich. Joanna pats her knee empathetically. “Of course we will, Theodore,” she answers for them.

“Yeah, Ted,” Bill adds. “Can’t just let you go without a proper send off, dude.”

Ted grins and flicks his head like he’s moving his hair out of the way. He stops grinning and rubs his head and sandy dust rains down into his lap. He grins again and nods. “Excellent.”

Bess finishes her sandwich and then finally pipes up. “Well, I just wish it could be summer forever, don’t you?”

“I’m positively  _ dreading _ August,” Joanna moans. Ted asks her why, seemingly glad for the change of subject and the shift in attention. “Everyone keeps asking us for high school diplomas! That nice lady at the library helped us sign up to get some.”

Bill laughs. “You’ll be like, super- _ super _ seniors.”

Joanna frowns, obviously not getting the joke. “What was it she called it? A ged?”

“Oh! You’re going for GED’s!” Ted takes another sandwich out and takes a big bite. He swallows hard and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m a little jealous -- we’re stuck in high school for four whole years and you ladies get to do the whole thing in a couple months.”

“What do you need it for anyway?” Bill asks.

“The funds Rufus left us with are getting a little thin and no one seems to want to let us work without proving we’ve been educated.”

Bess nods, agreeing. “They don’t quite care that we had the finest private tutoring that the crown’s coin could provide -- or that we ran our own household. Surely that qualifies us?”

Bill doesn’t really understand it all either. He’s never had a problem and he’s definitely not graduated or anything yet.Ted squints at sky for a moment, pondering something before he wonders out loud, “Are you guys trying to be managers or something?”

“Yes,” Bess nods. “It seemed the logical conclusion.”

“Whoah, no way! That’s why!”

“Yeah! Those are most _coveted_ spots in the shopping mall hierarchy. I think there might be some shifts open at  _ Pretzels N Cheese _ , couple people went away for the summer. We could work together,” Bill grins. Joanna would look real cute in the uniform.

The princesses crinkle their noses at each other. Bill totally gets it. They shrug and agree and Ted smiles really big and looks like he’s teetering most precariously on the edge of something. 

Elizabeth laughs and leans in to press her forehead against Ted’s. “Don’t look so pleased,” she teases.

“You wanna go back in the water?” Ted asks her. Elizabeth chews her bottom lip and nods. She lets him pull her up off their picnic blanket and they race hand-in-hand toward the edge of the lake, splashing when their feet hit the water.

Bill and Joanna watch them, leaning together and stretching out after they clean up the refuse of their lunches and put the food away to ward off the bugs. Joanna sighs, most content, with Bill’s arm around her shoulders and she laces her fingers into his where they’re hanging.

“Darling?”

“Mm?”

“Does Elizabeth seem a bit off to you?”

Bill’s not sure how to answer. He hasn’t known either of them for very long. He doesn’t really know what not-off looks like. But he’s also not as dumb as people think he is. “I think she’s not taking things well.”

Joanna is quiet. She’s very serious while she looks out at her sister and Ted splashing each other and swimming further out into the lake.

“But you  _ did _ just leave, like, your entire lives behind. Like centuries behind. It’s not as if you just moved here from England. Everything was already upside down and then there’s Ted leaving on top of it all.”

Joanna takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but you’ve got me and I’m not going anywhere.”

Joanna pulls Bill’s hand toward her cheek, pressing it there before she turns her face to kiss his knuckles. “You’d better not.”

“Hey, Jo?”

“Yes, darling?”

“When you work at  _ Pretzels N Cheese  _ with me?”

“Yes?”

“You won’t be able to tease me about smelling like pretzels and cheese anymore.” He cranes his neck to look down at her and waggles his brows. 

She’s very pretty when she pouts.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun isn’t even up yet when Bill slides into the passenger’s seat of the station wagon. Him and his dad leave Missy sleeping, a sticky-note on the bathroom mirror to remind her where they’ve gone. Bill wanted to ride in the car with Ted but his dad reasons that the Logans need the drive to be alone together for a few last minutes before Ted is off and on his way. 

Bill is just thankful that he’s flying out of Ontario and not LAX or anything. They’d probably get stuck in traffic and then he’d miss getting to say goodbye.

The princesses have got their own little car and Joanna really likes to drive so when Bill offered to pick them up they offered it right back. He very nearly takes them up on the offer but he thinks better of it. He doesn’t have good feelings about how things will go. 

He wants his dad there -- he’s been paying so much more attention to Bill again, like he’s finally remembered that Bill was there before Missy came into the picture. Bill thinks that if things go sour, his dad will know what to do.

When they get to the gate, Bess and Jo are already there. Joanna waves and stands, an excited smile on her face. She skip-walks over to Bill when him and his dad get closer and he's more than happy to take her hand, bending down to kiss her knuckles like a proper knight should. She blushes and for a moment Bill forgets that he’s been barely holding himself together since he opened his eyes this morning.

“Good morning, Mr. Preston,” Joanna greets with a tiny curtsy. 

Elizabeth stands and does the same. “Is Theodore with you?” she asks, very somber even with the smile on her face.

“No,” Bill shakes his head. “He should be here soon though,” he pauses, not really wanting to say it. “His flight leaves in an hour.”

They find seats together and Bill is almost glad to be mortified by his dad’s dumb jokes and the way he pals around with the babes and tries to sound cool. He’s really glad when his dad decides to go and get them all something for breakfast, grumbling about how overpriced the food court is. The person beside Jo gets up and she moves so Bill can sit between her and Bess. 

She takes his hand and smiles. “It’ll all be fine,” she assures him.

They make it through a breakfast of microwaved pancakes and sticky, too-sweet fake maple syrup and cartons of orange juice while the princesses tell Bill’s dad about where they grew up and he laughs along with them like it's a great big joke. Bill wonders if it’s going to be like that all the time? That nobody will take them seriously. And why should they, really? It  _ does _ sound like a great big joke. 

Maybe, he thinks, they shouldn’t tell people that the princesses are princesses anymore -- or that they’re from a whole different time.

Elizabeth interrupts abruptly, her face totally open and sunny with joy. “Theodore!”

“Hey, guys,” Ted says sheepishly, approaching with his dad and his brother behind him. “Sorry you had to get up so early.”

Bess wraps him in a hug and he squeezes her back. His face over her shoulder is all squished like he’s been hit in the gut with a dodgeball. He’s smiling when he lets go of her and she kisses his cheek most demurely.

Bill probably wouldn’t have recognized Ted if he saw him walking down the street. As if the travesty of his hair isn’t enough -- he’s dressed like a damn clown. He’s got on new brown shoes and khakis pressed within an inch of their lives and a starchy white shirt with buttons tucked into them.

Ted rubs his head and blushes and looks down at his feet. “Different, huh?”

“Yeah, dude! Really different.” Bill looks up at Captain Logan and he can’t keep the contempt he feels off of his face. Ted’s dad levels a serious look right back at him. “You look great, dude, I could never pull that off. You make it work!”

“Do I?”

“It’s lovely, Theodore,” Joanna slips in to give him a hug, too.

“Clean up good, kid,” Bill’s dad adds.

“Thank you, Mr. Preston,” Ted says bashfully.

Deacon snorts. “He looks like a mega dork!”

“Deacon,” Captain Logan hisses and Deacon shuts up but keeps on snickering. “Excuse us,” he says and tugs Ted along toward the desk to check in. Deacon follows, poking and prodding at Ted like he always does, just annoying as ever.

Bill watches them and decides that he would like to sock Captain Logan right in the jaw. He won’t, though, at least not until Ted is on the plane.

When they all sit down together again Ted talks about how he’s looking forward to getting to school. How he thinks it’s going to be great and that it’s just what he needs to grow up and get his life in order. How he’s looking forward to getting strong and having a routine.

Bill has to keep taking deep breaths. It’s like listening to some alien pod-person talk out of Ted’s mouth. He has to keep things in perspective, he thinks. Ted’s trying to make his dad happy, Bill’s sure of it. He doesn’t really think any of this, doesn’t want it.

It seems like there’s no time at all before the lady at the desk is calling for everyone to board. Bill hangs back while everyone else says their goodbyes. Joanna goes first. She gives Ted a quick hug and steps away. Bill’s dad gives him a solid handshake and wishes him luck. 

Elizabeth can’t seem to contain herself anymore. She lets out a sob and throws her arms around him. “Oh,  _ Theodore _ .” 

“Don’t be sad, Bess.” Ted tells her, his voice thick with it.

Elizabeth nods and holds his face and plants one  _ heck _ of a bodacious smooch on him. Bill looks away. He feels  _ hot _ like there’s a bunch of fire ants under his skin.

“ _ Whoah _ ,” Ted breathes. “If I'd of known you’d do  _ that _ I would have left sooner.”

Elizabeth smacks his shoulder weakly. “Don’t be cruel.” She laughs and it’s more like she’s crying. “You’ll write to me?”

“Of course!” Ted leans in and kisses Elizabeth himself, most chastely.

“Gracious,” Bess says. “Here I am taking up all your time.” She stands back with her sister and they hold each other’s hands.

“Well, um,” Bill doesn’t know where to start. “I’ll catch ya later, Ted.”

“Yeah, dude, for sure.”

They shuffle their feet and cross and uncross their arms. Captain Logan sighs and Deacon rolls his eyes so hard Bill thinks they might stick up into his head. Bill glares at Captain Logan and decides he doesn’t care. He’s taking Bill’s best pal away. He’s forcing Ted to be something he’s  _ not _ . Bill won’t let him take this last minute away, too.

Bill throws his arms around Ted. His chest feels tight and it’s like the whole world is pressing in on him -- like he’s drowning at the bottom of Bonelli Lake.

“Ted, you’re -- you’re my most excellent friend.”

“Yeah!”

“I don’t want you to go, dude. You  _ can’t  _ go.”

“I gotta.”

“I know, dude. What’s gonna happen to the  _ Stallyns _ ?”

“Gonna keep ruling -- you keep practicing while I’m away! The babes are going to, too!”

“Absolutely!” Joana pipes in.

“I’ll be back for winter break,” Ted reminds him.

Bill holds on tighter when the lady at the desk makes another announcement. Ted squeezes him and it pinches his skin and Bill doesn’t care. Bill turns his face and whispers while the announcement is still being made, hoping that no one hears him but Ted. “I love you, dude.”

Ted hugs him even  _ tighter _ and sniffs very loud. “I gotta go,” he says.

Ted peels himself away from Bill.

Ted and Deacon push each other. Ted’s dad hands him his ticket and his passport because he’s stopping somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Canada before he makes it to Alaska. He puts his stupid arm around Ted and leads him away to the desk and says something that Bill can’t hear and just… shakes his hand. Like they’re finishing a business meeting or something.

Bill hates him.

Ted hands his ticket to the lady at the desk and after she checks it and waves him through. Ted hesitates. He turns around and his face does a very funny thing. He waves and ducks through the gate like he’s in a hurry. The lady who took his ticket turns to her esteemed announcement-making colleague and a pitiful look passes between them.

“Well,” Captain Logan says. “Thank you all for coming. It really wasn’t necessary.”

“Ted  _ asked _ ,” Bill says. “And it would’ve been most egregious of us not to attend.”

Captain Logan’s mouth sort of disappears into a thin line. “Yes. Well. We’ve got to get Deacon to ball practice.” He nods at Bill’s dad like there’s some kind of silent solidarity between them and makes his way away from the gate.

When he’s out of sight Joanna asks Bill if he’d like her to stay with him. “No way, Jo!” He tries to smile. “You and Bess head home. I’ll call you later, maybe we can practice or something.” Joanna gives him a kiss on the cheek and the princesses politely excuse themselves.

“You ready?” Bill’s dad asks.

“Can I just… can I just sit here a minute?”

“Sure, Billy.” 

They sit back down and Bill feels like he’s going to be sick. 

“Do you want to go over by the window? You can watch the plane take off.” 

Bill shakes his head. He really  _ will _ be sick if he does that. There’s a last call for boarding and Bill hides his face in his hands.

He really wishes he had the phonebooth.


	8. Chapter 8

Bill sits listlessly amongst the revelers gathered in his backyard on the Fourth of July. They’re all people from his dad’s office and Missy’s weird New Age pals from the community center. He doesn’t really know anyone and he doesn’t care to. 

There’s a handful of kids running through the maze of legs and tables and chairs and trampling the garden. He wants to shout at them that Missy put a lot of work into it, even if it’s mostly weeds and Black-eyed Susans that are pretty much impossible to kill anyway -- there’s still the sickly little rose bush he planted as a kid in the hopes that maybe his mom would come home to see it and hydrangeas that are maybe more leaf than flower -- but he knows that’ll probably only make them run to their parents and whine that he’s being mean and he doesn’t want to deal with it.

Everyone around him is laughing and having a good time. His dad is over at the grill, a pair of tongs in one hand and his other arm around Missy’s waist. She whispers something to him and he turns his head enough to kiss her. _Bleh_ , Bill thinks and moves his sunglasses from the top of his head to his nose. The stupid little nose things get stuck in his hair and he’s tempted for a fleeting few seconds to go inside and cut them out. He takes a breath and carefully picks his hair out then crosses his arms and glares at all the activity in the yard.

Bill zones out. Cicadas all over the neighborhood are screaming and it turns into the static between the television stations, but between his ears. He startles when he hears his name called and nearly knocks the plate of food his dad has come over to offer him right out of his hands. He grumbles an apology and takes the plate.

The food looks great but he doesn’t want to eat. He hasn’t had an appetite in days, just putting whatever finds its way in front of him into his mouth on autopilot. He even made it most of the way through one of Missy’s burned grilled cheeses before he realized his mouth felt like it was full of gummy charcoal.

“You gotta eat something, kid.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bill pushes the coleslaw away from the glossy barbecued chicken with his plastic fork, not really fond of how food mixes around when it touches on a plate. “Just not that hungry.”

“Everybody’s asking about your sour face.” Bill screws his face up in an even more heinous expression and his dad snorts. He stands there for a moment, surveying everything. The colorful triangles strung up on the fence float in the sweltering breeze and the mosquito-warding candles flicker on the tables with the food. He looks down at Bill and frowns. “You want a beer?”

“What?”

“Do you want a beer?”

“You sure, duder?”

Bill’s dad shrugs. “You’re not going anywhere, I don’t see why you can’t relax and enjoy yourself a little.”

Bill considers it a moment and nods. He’s a little surprised when his dad goes across the yard to the coolers and gets him one. He could get used to this, being served. “Thanks, Dad.” 

He says it’s no problem and turns to nod and wave at someone who just showed up. 

“Hey dad? Do you mind if I go inside to eat?” Bill plucks at the collar of his tee shirt, flapping it against his body. “I’m melting a little.” It’s a relief when his dad says it’s fine.

Bill settles at the counter in the kitchen. The granite top is splendiferous against his skin and he just sits there relishing in the relief from the summer outside for a few moments before he starts eating. Objectively, he knows the food is good. His dad’s a pretty decent cook. But, it all just tastes like cardboard to him. He can’t enjoy anything. He’s still too twisted up inside. 

He pops the top on the _Coors_ can and takes a long sip. He has to set it aside, the sort of sense memory of the alcoholic tang making him think of drinking in that saloon and playing cards with Mr. The Kid and the _outstanding_ brawl that had followed. He puts the can down and pushes it away from himself. 

Bill _knows_ that his outrage isn’t productive. He _knows_ that he’s the only one feeling so totally heinous, that it doesn’t do anything -- it doesn’t make Captain Logan bring Ted back.

He’s gotta get his head back on straight. Ted wouldn’t want him to just mope around all summer.

He should write some songs for the band. Maybe he’ll use the money he’s been saving for a car on guitar lessons? Then when Ted comes home he can teach Ted, too. Ted should be home for the holidays, he remembers. Thanksgiving is really only right around the corner! And he’s sure they’ll have winter break, too. They’ve gotta! Ted’ll have been away at that school for -- he counts on his fingers, fork clamped between his teeth -- six whole months!

Oh _no_ , Bill thinks. He has to make it through six whole months without Ted.

Bill finishes off the rest of his plate just to have something else to focus on. He uses about a dozen napkins to clean his hands and face and it’s not really that they’re that dirty so much as it’s an impulse. He hunches over the pile of crumpled napkins on his plate with his hands around his beer. It’s gone all warm and gross and it’s not got any appeal left but he sips it anyway because it’s in front of him and he feels like he should since his dad offered it. He imagines his head is a little buzzy even though it isn’t actually but it’s nice to pretend.

“Oh _there_ you are, Bill!”

Bill turns toward where the sliding door is opening and Missy is slipping through along with a burst of hot air from outside. “Sorry, Missy -- I mean, _Mom_. I’ll come back out.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine, dear.” She pats his arm and he thinks it's supposed to feel tender and motherly but it’s more like being in a play at school. “The girls are looking for you.” Bill starts to get up and she waves him off, leaning into the fridge as she continues. “Your father is serving them -- I’m sure they’ll be inside soon, there’s hardly any place to sit out there. I had no idea all of his colleagues would be bringing so many people. I thought it was _just_ supposed to be husbands and wives. The children are lovely, obviously, but really there’s just not enough space.”

Bill bites his tongue. He’s pretty sure the space issue is because of all the people Missy invited at the last minute. His dad had been in a panic yesterday about not having enough food to go around and off Bill went on his bike to the _Circle K_ in the hopes that they still had packs of hot dogs to spare.

It’s not his place to comment. He’s trying his hardest to be more son-ly. If the last few days have shown him anything, it’s that he’s got it pretty good, all things considered. Missy does try. It’s not her fault things are awkward, not _totally_ at least.

“Should I go get them?” he asks.

“Get who?”

“The princesses. I mean, the babes -- I -- Jo and Bess. Should I go get them?”

“Oh no,” she says, closing the fridge door with her hip and peeling the plastic wrap off of a big bowl of ambrosia salad. It jiggles when she puts it down. “I’m sure they’ll find their way inside when Ian’s done chewing their ears.” The door slides open again and Jo and Bess step inside. “See! Told you so.” She plops a serving spoon into the ambrosia with a wet _smack_ and grins. “Don’t have _too_ much fun, now, kids.”

The princesses take seats at the counter and Bill cleans up his place, a little bit embarrassed at his obvious emotional dishevelment. His beer finished, he grabs some sodas out of the fridge and slides a pair over to the ladies before popping the top on his own.

“William, you look awful.” Joanna is right to the point.

“Hello to you, too, your majesty.”

Elizabeth shoves Jo with her shoulder. “What she _means_ is _,_ are you alright?”

Bill considers it for a moment and shakes his head. “Not really, but I can’t do anything about it. I thought maybe I’d write Ted a letter tonight! Just, you know, to get him through the first week.” He knows it won’t get to him right away, but it’s _something_. And then Bill can totally look forward to getting an answer! “How are _you_ , Bess?”

She pauses, her forehead creasing and her mouth turning down. “Sad. And a little jealous.” She smiles through it for a moment. “Joanna still has you. But I’m looking forward to Christmas! I think it’ll be wonderful.”

Joanna sighs comically. “And then there’s me, trapped between the two of you mopey dopes.”

It’s enough to cut through the melancholy and they laugh. Bill lounges, more comfortable with the princesses there. They’re like a pair of shields from all the annoying celebration going on outside. Joanna turns her chair and lets her sandals slide onto the floor so that she can put her feet up in Bill’s lap. He traces the lines in the top of her foot from the shoe, zoning out just a little.

“So, what do you think, Bill?”

“Hmm?”

“About the keyboard? The small one.”

“What about it?”

Joanna snorts and swings her feet back down. “You weren’t listening at all, were you?”

“I’m sorry!”

Elizabeth laughs a little too and Bill’s cheeks turn pink. “I was asking if perhaps I could take the smaller keyboard home? To practice with, of course. I always feel a bit intrusive when we ask to come over to play.”

“Ladies, you are totally _Stallyns_ and you’re welcome _any_ time. I don’t see why you can’t have it! I’m definitely hopeless on the keys -- Ted is, too.” He stops and thinks about it for a moment. “Worse than we play guitar, I think. You guys are still comin’ over on Friday to jam, though, right?”

“Totally!”

They make a brief appearance back outside but really it is way, way too hot and the babes are most uncomfortable with all of the complete strangers in the yard and Bill is glad that someone else is because he's beginning to think he, himself, is really just acting like a brat because he's in a funk.

Bill sneaks a couple of bags of chips in from the snack table outside and he and the babes abandon the party for the cool haze of the den. It’s quieter here, further from the yard, and with the curtains pulled closed there’s not the blazing brightness of the sun through the windows. Bill flips the little retro desk fan on all the same, thing’s got surprising oomph, and drops down onto the floor beside the girls.

“So,” he says. “Scary or funny?”

Jo and Bess look at each other for a moment before talking over each other, one insisting on _scary_ and the other _funny_. Bill purses his lips and scans the battered VHS boxes in the television console and -- _Ah!_

“ _Little Shop of Horrors_ ,” he says, shuffling forward on his knees and pulling it off the shelf. “Horrific _and_ hilarious. The dentist is absolutely heinous.”

Jo raises a brow at the picture on the box while Bill sets the tape up. “Does this plant eat people?”

"Does the dentist have to clean the people out of it's pointy little teeth?" Bess asks.

Bill grins and stretches out on the floor on his stomach, weirdly at ease. “Now why would I spoil that surprise?”

“Insufferable,” Jo mutters and Bess laughs. 

The static on the tape pops and the FBI warning flashes up onto the screen. They chit-chat over the trailers, opening the chips and passing them around and then _shushing_ each other loudly as the tinny music starts and the animated title spins onto the screen. They groan when it's just another commercial and tease each other to be quiet again when the green text scroll begins. 

“A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away,” Bess says in a comical bass.

Bill snorts and rolls over a little to look back at Jo, “She really is obsessed, isn’t she?”

Jo scrunches up her nose, holding back a laugh and smacks him playfully on the thigh. “You and Ted created a monster and I shall never forgive you. She’s been practicing Wookiee impressions.”

“Only in the shower,” Bess argues. Bill and Jo give her strange looks and she shrugs. “The acoustics are good.”

The sun has long gone down by the time the last of the guests leave, herding children toward station wagons and hoping to get home before the crowd down at the park floods onto the sidewalks and streets.

Jo and Bess and Bill have burned through a handful of tapes and have moved on to playing the board games from the top shelf of the closet. The only one that appears to still have all the pieces, or at least enough pieces, is _Monopoly_ and Jo is absolutely whipping her opponents.

“Darling!” Missy’s voice echoes down the hall. “They’re still hiding back here!” 

She pokes her head into the room and waves and the three of them turn to give her their attention. “What’s up Mis -- Mom?”

Missy’s face smooths down into a squint of satisfaction and Bill’s dad moves her into the room with his hands on her waist. Bill thinks she might be a little tipsy and it's an odd thing to see.

“You ladies are welcome to stay over if you like," he starts. We can fix up the sleeper for you.” Bill's dad gestures at the couch behind them. “I can’t see you driving home now -- too many drunks on the road.”

Joanna smiles and squeezes Bill’s hand where it rests on her knee. “Thank you, Mr. Preston.”

“ _Here_ ,” he says. “In the den. Not upstairs.”

“Dad,” Bill hisses through his teeth.

“Darling,” Missy pushes at his shoulder and he sways. “We’re leaving clean up for the morning. The fireworks will be starting soon, come out to the front yard with us!” She flaps her hands, waving off their attempts to clean up their game and takes one each of the girls’ hands, tugging them past Bill’s dad and out of the room, laughing and excited.

Bill’s dad slings an arm around his shoulders and Bill lets out a little _oof_ under the weight of it. “Missy and I have been talking,” he starts as they follow the gaggle of babes to the front of the house. This doesn’t seem like it could possibly be a good thing. “We wanna get away for the summer. I’ve got a whole bunch of vacation time saved up. I thought maybe we could head out to the beach, rent a little bungalow --”

“Dad, are you asking me if I’m cool with staying home alone or something?”

“What? No, of course not.”

Bill pulls a face. “Well, I think it might be a little bogus for me to tag along on your romantic excursion, duder.”

“No, it’s not -- no. It’ll be a family vacation, Billy. You need to get the hell out of San Dimas, too.”

“Aren’t I maybe a little old for family vacations?”

“No one’s too old for family vacations.” He stops and grabs his keys just to make sure they don’t get locked out. “What I was thinking was maybe we spend a little extra and get a house? You could ask the girls along. If it’s alright with their parents, of course.”

“Ah -- uh -- their _parents_? The prin -- the babes -- Joanna and Elizabeth’s parents?”

“Well, yeah, who else would we ask, the Dalai Lama?”

“We could just ask _them_. You know, Jo and Bess.”

Bill’s dad laughs and squeezes him close for a moment. “I think the sun fried your brain a little today, kid.” 

The first firework booms overhead and every one turns and looks up at the brilliant lights against the dark sky. Bill’s dad ruffles his hair and lets Bill push him away in retaliation. Missy melts into his arms and Bill wrinkles his nose, only a little bit grossed out, he supposes. Bill can’t help but smile back at Jo when she turns toward him, her face all painted with wonder and bright with the next flash of fireworks.

This would be messy, he thinks to himself, slipping his arm around Jo. To Elizabeth’s credit, she seems mostly unfazed by all the shmoop, her hands clasped against her chest and her eyes glued to the sky. A big red explosion blooms across the sky and anger burns Bill's stomach like too much hot sauce.

Ted should be here. He should be watching the fireworks with his arm around Bess and the four of them should be camped out on a picnic blanket down at the football field with all the other dudes in their class. And Ted should be here helping him figure out how he's gonna make his dad think the princesses have permission from their Royal Ugly Dad to come away with them on vacation.

He tricked Captain Logan over the phone, he remembers, he thinks it might work with his dad, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments!
> 
> [Find me here.](https://aryagreenleaf.carrd.co/)


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